Broken Heart

I spoke to my sister Janice for the first time on the day of a stress test because my blood pressure was too high and couldn’t be regulated. I was sitting in the parking lot of the cardiologist's office waiting to walk in to my appointment. I let her call go to voicemail so I would be able to listen to her voice over and over again; as many times as I wanted to.

It was two years since I contacted my birth parents on my 50th birthday.

I received my original unaltered birth certificate weeks before. That's what happens when you are adopted your birth certificate is altered to reflect that you were born to your adopted parents. You are born in one family and poof; you are raised in a different family. The government hides your identity from you, sort of like the "Bourne Identity" without the kicking ass and car explosion scenes.



I had a hard time making the phone call.



Each day was a struggle anticipating what? Rejection? Acceptance? I am one of those people that worries a lot, to anticipate every scenario; to be prepared. Really, it's fear that prevented me from moving forward.

What if? My mantra.

The realization that my life's story could crumble in one phone call was overwhelming.

Steve and I were vacationing in Hawaii and I woke up on my 50th birthday afraid I was going to die without ever speaking to my birth parents.
After breakfast I decided this was it, I couldn't wait any longer. Steve went for a walk.
I looked at the phone; my stomach gripped in fear and I dialed the number. The same number my parents had since 1959 when they returned to San Jose, CA from Swampscott, MA.

Bob answered, I asked for Marian. I don't know why I did that but, I did.
Is Marian there? "Just a minute," he said. She answered with an annoyed voice I could hear kids in the background. Their grandchildren.
"Hello Marian, my name is Cheryl and I was born on April 17, 1958 does that mean anything to you?" Her voice became faint; I could hear her say "no"as she handed the phone to my father. "Hello," he said. "Robert, my name is Cheryl and I was born on April 17, 1958 does that mean anything to you?"


"No it does not," he emphatically said.
I go into work mode when people lie to me. Really Bob, are you going to lie like some shitty shoplifter? I know who you are, you didn't hide very well. You married my mother before I was born, had three additional children and returned to your home town.
I completed my investigation before our conversation.

I get people to tell the truth for a living. I get them to tell me things that are going to hurt them, and they still do. They want me to empathize with them, to let them off the hook. It's a dance; I pretend to understand, they pretend to tell the truth.

"Robert," I began, "I don't want to hurt you or your family I am sure you had a very good reason, I just have a few questions will you please answer them?" "Ok," he said.



Confession!



People justify their decisions. A good interviewer always gives an out; that their decisions are understandable and justified. I know it sounds manipulative but try to get someone to confess, it’s not that easy.

I cautiously asked him questions and he cautiously answered.
Nothing in life prepares you for this conversation.
At this point in reunion the first contact is all you can see. You don't want to fuck up and have them not like you.

The road ahead was very dark.

He finally said, "We often think about how you made out."
We both became emotional. I could hear his voice break.
We became uncomfortable and he promised that he would tell Marian about our call and they would call me back.

Wait, wait ----wait.

The longer I waited I knew the answer was no.
People want to deliver good news fast; bad news drips like molasses.
It took them a week to the day to call me back.


We had two subsequent conversations over the next month; well, it was more of a negotiation. They wanted me to go away, not tell my brother and sisters. I wanted them to accept me and wouldn't promise anything.

All of us tried our skills of persuasion.

I pretended to understand and they pretended to tell the truth.
None of us got what we wanted.

In their eyes I became a threat; an unruly child not doing what I'm told, what to think; obey!
Their view of their lives was being threatened. They fought hard as their reality was altered. I became the target of their fear.

"Ungrateful, selfish," I was told.

"Karma was going to get me and all the people I loved."

"We are not your family and I will make sure no one ever speaks to you," Marian spit at me.


All because I couldn't promise that I wouldn't contact my siblings. I was filled with uncertainty and honestly didn't know what was going to be the next step. So unlike me, ask my husband.

Believe me I wanted to give up many times. I didn't. The truth was powerful and it kept me going.

Several months later I wrote a letter and sent it via Fed Ex to my siblings, all copies of the letter were going to be received on the same day.

Several days later, I received an email response "on behalf" of all of them from my brother Glen. He told me to stop contacting them, to comply with our parent's wishes. Wow, am I related to these people?

It took me two years to try again, I was broken.

I gathered the courage to reach out to my sister Janice via letter.

Again don't fuck up, I was asking for acceptance. I explained that I wanted a conversation and wouldn't she please see my point of view. I had no control on the decision made by our parents over 50 years ago.
I wanted to understand where I came from. "What is our heritage?" "What if this was you?" "Wouldn't you want the courtesy of a conversation?" I pleaded.

I tried to understand their point of view.
What if, I was raised in the same conditions?
What if, Janice or one of the others were in the same position and had contacted me?
I want to say I would be open, generous and accepting. But, would I? I wasn't sure.


Reunion warped my reality.
I questioned everything about myself. It took me sometime to understand the difference between my character and my genetics.

Would I have had the courage to alter my reality as I was asking her to do? To accept that she was lied to for 45 years?

Her reality had crumbled as well.

My conversation with my sister was the first time I didn't have to defend myself. I listened to her voice. Is that what I sound like? She sounded confident. I was a wreck, my heart pounded in my chest. "Holy shit, I hope there is nothing wrong with my heart," I thought. There were so many layers to that first conversation. She described how our parents called them together to explain about me. She said, "I'm very sorry about what our parents said to you. They are really nice people except on this issue.”

She added, "We don't talk about it very much and it is not a topic of general conversation. "Bob is more accepting than Marian," she said.


We exchanged information with the anticipation that we would stay in contact.

My heart was filled with relief it sounds like a cliché but, I can feel it today two years later.


Acceptance is powerful.

I went to my cardiology appointment and aced my stress test. It was just high blood pressure, which runs in our family! Janice told me so!

Since our conversation things have changed. I have been able to speak to many people related to me. Bob and Marian are not the gatekeepers to all members of my family past and present.
I have been accepted by members of my extended family and I appreciate everything they have done for me. They are wonderful, generous and brave family members.


It's is not easy for people to accept searches by adoptees and birth families. It is strange, everyone has an opinion. Sometimes violent opinions.
People want you to choose sides. I say there is room for everyone.

I am not anti-adoption it has a place in the world to protect children from abuse and neglect. I get it. I have a problem with the systematic way parents were and still are pressured to give up children all over the world.


Instead of helping them through difficult times their children become business transactions. Look at the bus stop benches targeting troubled teenagers and international adoptions. It's a business pure and simple with quotas and profits.

And, I have a HUGE problem of the perpetual lies told by state governments that alter birth certificates and hide the originals from grown adults.


What was promised to birthparents 50 years ago was wrong then and it's wrong now.

Secrecy never wins. It gives a false sense of security to the liars and fuels the people lied to.